Why I Became a Women’s Health Freelance Writer

And the Stories I Want to Tell

There's not a single story.

Or two, or even three.

What brings me to the women’s health table was a slow burn; an accumulation of appointments, failed promises, and dashed hopes that left me wondering if I was the only one thinking and feeling this way.

Why doesn't anyone believe me?

What do I do now?

It's tempting to sit back and accept the status quo.

Because when something's not right with your health—physical or mental—you can feel quite alone.

And loneliness tends to isolate. It distracts you from the hundreds of other women feeling and thinking the exact same way.

We're far from alone.

And the fight is far from over.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

I started writing full-time in May last year without a clear picture of where I'd land. My clients were and continue to be fantastic, albeit varied.

Yet much of my content writing experience lies in healthcare, so when a client in women’s health surfaced, I was intrigued.

I spent hours researching posts, finding myself deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of "why."

Why is it that women’s health is so underfunded?

Why don't better solutions than birth control for symptoms like ovarian cysts exist?

Why do healthcare providers often disregard women's pain?

The more I learned, the more frustrated I became.

Because I was witnessing parts of my story on replay.

Because the problems (and solutions) seem glaringly obvious, but those in power often refuse to listen.

Yet frustration soon made room for hope.

Because the more stories I read, the more I saw the broader picture of women's health and the explosive growth of femtech. I read about founders bringing issues like pelvic floor health, endometriosis, and vaginal dryness to the forefront.

I read that by the year 2030, forecasters suspect the women's health market may grow to over 20 billion.

We're far from alone.

And we're finished accepting the status quo.

Why diving into the world of women's health feels like coming home (and what I’m doing now).

My health story, background in healthcare content, and fire for women's health advocacy intersect to build the foundation of a career that energizes me each morning.

So, what does this mean for the future?

Today it means I'm learning.

I'm learning all I can about the current women's health climate (not great) and what can be done (quite a bit).

I continue to write for my original women's health client, which gives me incredible joy.

I watch webinars, read books, and listen to pioneering founders.

And I'm learning to hold frustration and hope in equal measure.

Articles about the mass exodus of OB-GYNs from restrictive states like Idaho flood my feed as do the stories of women who court death thanks to unclear abortion policies.

Yet there's a new drug hitting the market that can relieve horrendous menopause symptoms and organizations like the Center for Reproductive Rights, people like Andrea Grimes, and countless others continue to fight for our right to make decisions about our own bodies.

The stories about women’s health we need to tell.

How can we ensure hope continues to break through?

Build relationships and, of course, tell stories.

I hesitate to use the term storytelling. I think it's overused, but there's no way around it. If we're going to turn the tide and make our communities a better place for future generations, we need each other.

And we need our stories.

Stories require authentic human connection, vulnerability, and a willingness to step into each other's shoes.

At least, those are the stories I want to tell.

Each piece of writing I create, whether about an under-researched condition or the continued fallout of the Dobbs decision, tells a story. It's the story of our collective struggle for health equity, the story of a woman wrestling with a new diagnosis, and the founder of a transformative solution that said 'enough.'

Yes, there's darkness, but we also need light.

The belief that things can and will change.

Because we’re constantly growing and becoming—that's the beauty of being human. No one person holds all the answers or can drive all the solutions.

We must come together to find new ways to tell stories and build relationships based on honesty, kindness, and understanding to ensure all women can flourish.

Because, at the end of the day, we’re far from alone.

And there’s much to be done.